


Past Sins, New Crimes

by DawnFromTheDark



Category: Batman Beyond
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 06:55:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6693982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DawnFromTheDark/pseuds/DawnFromTheDark





	1. A New Player

**Chapter 1: A New Player**

* * *

 

"It'll cost you," she reported into her headset, "the security is about a grade B, so it'll be pricier than the last gig."

Balancing on the edge of the roof, the dark silhouette of a woman was thrown by the light of the moon and streetlights that made the city glow. Her legs dangled off the edge as she walked confidently without fear of falling, like a cat walking across a fence. Her face was hidden in more than just shadow, a mask ran from her hairline to her chin, the shape of a bird's face. Any where else a woman dressed up in such a way would have brought much more attention, but in Gotham, costumed freaks were a common occurrence and the city went on around her, they paid her no mind.

"That'll work," she agreed to the credits the contractor offered her, "transfer the funds to my account and the job is done," she pulled into view of her account up on the screen built the lenses of her mask, after a few moments there was a notification of new funds in her account, "thank you. You're package will be left where we discussed. Pleasure doing business with you."

After she tapped the side of her mask, the phone conversation ended, and as she took a deep breath, she jumped off the side of the building. The wind rushed past her for maybe just a second or two, before she landed on her feet and started running. Black hair bobbed behind her as she hurried from rooftop to rooftop, scaling the side of a building or climbing a fire escape when necessary. A few blocks away, stood a glossy dark building, very fitting of Neo Gotham's style. This was the grand part of Gotham, where the rich resided, a whole world away butjust on the other side of the river was the slums she knew all too well. What empathy was she supposed to feel for these people? They lived so well when their were others clawing and struggling while those in comfort snubbed their high class noses up so they didn't have to smell the human suffering. So no, she didn't feel an ounce of guilt about stealing from them, it barely made a dent in their bank accounts anyway. She didn't have any illusion that she was some kind of modern day Robin Hood, no her thievery was most definitely for personal gain, a girl had to make a living. She knew people would tell her that she had options, but she had a very special skill set that people paid very well for it, and there were debts that had to be paid.

She scaled the building next to the one she was targeting, it was an old style office building, where the company clearly didn't have it in the budget for motion sensors on the outside walls. All the better for this thief. Strong magnets in the palms and toes of her suit aided her as she climbed the chrome metal, while the claws in her gloves allowed her fingers to grip in the groves of the building. Even with years of training, after a few floors, she felt the labor of the task affecting her. Sweat had begun to bead on her forehead and her breath was starting to shorten. A thought crossed her mind that she ought to raise her asking price for just the risk she was running to her personal safety, because if she fell off the building pieces of her would be scattered down the block.

For many that very thought would fill them with paralyzing fear, but it had been long ago that she had given up what seemed now to be a trivial fear. Now when she thought of dying from falling great height followed by a sudden stop, it was more in an analytical way, such as the likelihood she would die or if it would warrant her raising her price. Probably could tack on another fifty bucks. A breeze ran through the air, making her grateful that she had finally reached the balcony she had been aiming for. Tight security is nice and all, but neighbors who always forget to arm their system are a burglar's best friend. With easy she opened the screen door and entered the apartment.

* * *

 

"I'm tellin' you it's dead out here, I mean those Jokerz in the park, really? A rent-a-cop could've taken those dregs down," Terry complained as he drove the jet through the tall, towering building of Neo Gotham. He remembered that it wasn't too long ago that he had been struggling to maneuver the air ship, but after a few tries and some shaking runs, he had gotten the hang of it.

Even without seeing him, Terry could sense that his mentor Bruce Wayne was rolling his eyes at the new Batman,em "Just try to focus, McGinnis. It's your responsibility to take care of the city, so do your job," he muttered disapprovingly over the intercom in Terry's cowl. It wasn't ideal to have a person like Bruce Wayne in his ear, but if he wanted to keep the Batman gig he had to take the good with the bad.

"Alright, alright," Terry grumbled back as he scanned the streets, and when that failed, he flipped through the scanner to see if he would pick up any police or other communications that could give him something to do, that wasn't the paper waiting for him back home.

"There's a robbery going on at the pawn shop on fifth," Wayne helped, "I found a traffic camera at that intersection, an employee is probably still inside, given that the shop only closed fifteen minutes ago."

"A pawn shop open that late?" Terry asked, suspicion raising in him, "yeah, that means the place is running the business on the up and up. I'll check it out."

The pawn shop was actually a lot nicer than what Terry had imagined in his head, but then again this was a nice part of the city. Of course that didn't mean the shop was running anymore legitimately than if the building had bars over the window. Instead it was clean, shiny and well kept, plus there were five goons in there holding the employee by the barrel of a gun. The burglars were dressed normally but they smelled as if they had rolled around in something foul, and by the looks of it, the employee had pissed him out of the terror of the situation.

"Sorry guys it's past curfew," Terry told them to get there attention, though he received a disapproving groan from Wayne, who never really enjoyed Terry's approached to Batman.

Fighting with those guys was harder than Terry originally accessed. He figured it would be a simple take down, but whoever these people were they had some kind of training, pretty good training by the way they were fighting. As he dodged punches and bullets, Terry threw one batarang to take out the gun in their hands and another filled with foam to paralyze them where they stood. After dusted off the employee, Terry left the store quickly to return to the jet but as he climbed up to get inside it he caught sight of a strange silhouette dance across the night. He watched as she silently slide into someone's apartment. Placing his hand on his ear, Terry activated the intercom in his cowl and called him mentor, "You know anything about some woman in a bird mask?"

"No," Wayne answer, but Terry could already here him typing away at his computer, "but I'll do some digging, just give me a minute."

"Well while you do that, I'm going to do the hero stuff," Terry smirked as he headed toward her. For a moment he considered using the rockets in his shoes, but he figured the subtle approach may be more suited for the situation.

* * *

 

The apartment appeared to be owned by a wealthy older woman with an affinity towards cats. Almost like a rich version of her own grandmother, pictures of cats on tables next to couches with hair on them and cats embroidered on the pillows. It was overkill. Though it was frillier than her grandmother would ever tolerate. She shook her head, no time for nostalgia, there was a job to be done.

Her eyes scanned the walls of the apartment until they landed on the shiny metal grate that she was looking for, oh thank you for mid 2000 ducted work. Pulling out a multitool, she quickly started to take up the screws holding the grate to the wall. Everyone had their fancy lasers, but she loved some of her old fashion hand-me-downs that she had received from her grandmother's burglary day, sometimes new isn't better. Though after she pulled herself into the vent and through to the other side, she was glad for new technology the size of a pin, so that she could place it on the side of a security camera to play the last four minutes on a loop.

Lowering herself to the floor, she surveyed the room, the place was decked out. A single piece of furniture was worth more than her whole apartment, artwork on the wall, probably originals, probably with sensors, and the newest technology installed. There were a few security measures in here, all doors were patched into the security system, so when the security system was armed, all the door automatic locked, she hated people with security advisors. Didn't anyone care about the little birdie burglar enough to make robbery a little easier? Then again if it was easy everyone would do it, and she'd be out of job, or at the very least she'd get a significant pay cut.

She walked tentatively through the room, keeping a sharp eye for any extra security that she had missed when she scoped out the place. By turning on the lenses in her mask, she was able to scan the room for technology and life forms, so far only what she expected. As she walked up to the door she knew lead to the study and to her prize, she pulled out a small box of her own design, placing it over the lock's keypad. After she punched a few buttons she heard the tumblers shift and the door opened. This would be the tricky part. A criss cross of sensors ran across the room that were invisible to the naked eye, each one was ready and waiting to trip the alarm to lock down the place and alert the cops. None of that sounded pleasant to her.

Luckily, she was looking at the floor through the lenses of her mask. There was a little bit of clearance for the door to swing open before it would run into the sensor, the angle was just what she needed. Taking a deep breath, she focused herself right before she leapt for the desk.

* * *

 

"Where'd she go?" Terry whispered into his cowl as he scanned the apartment he was in, "weird place," he commented as he noticed all the cat things and smelt the distinct smell of an elderly woman.

"Pay attention," Bruce warned, rolling his eyes as his undisciplined apprentice, "she couldn't have gotten very far. I suggest you look around more closely," Terry turning his head slowly the old man was watching as well, "stop, right there against the wall."

Walking over to it, Terry picked up the grate in his hands, "I'm thinking our mystery woman went through the duct work," he stated as he pulled himself up there and started crawling through, "though note to self, she must be a lot smaller than me, because I barely fit," he tried not to make a sound as he struggle to get through the vents, and he hoped given how small this burglar must be that she would be an easy take down.

He managed to wiggle himself to the other side where she must have climbed out of, due to the fact that it was the only part of the duct with a missing vent cover. As he pulled himself out of the duct work he noticed the high class feeling that just oozed from the apartment. He had to find this oddly dressed burglar before this rich bastard was taken for everything he had supposedly kept locked away in his home. As he inspected the room, he noted the slightly ajar door, it could be nothing but it was it was as good as a lead as he was going to get.

* * *

Once she was on the desk, she leaned over to the reach for the wall, her torso just long enough to reach the bookcase behind it. Her hands ran over the soft wood of the case, most have been expensive to buy the real stuff instead of the plastic polyurethane blend that much people went with. The great thing about real wood, is that it is was easy to tell when it was merely a false back, and the center panel to the left definitely was hiding exactly what she was seeking. Unzipping a pouch in her sleeve, she took out a small metallic device and put it on the panel. That should crack the key code in quick minute.

As she was basking in her success, the hairs on the back of her neck prickled, "Damn," she grumbled, too quiet to be audible. How could she have been so careless, not watched her back close enough? She knew at some point she'd gain a little more attention than she desired sooner or later, she was just hoping it would be later, a lot later. Still it was time to face the music, or hopefully in her case, beat it. As she turned to face him, he leaped from the shadows, tackling and sending her tumbling to the floor, which immediately made her cringed as they triggered the silent alarm.

He landed on top of her, but it was pitiful, he barely had her pinned at all, so she thought it would be great to have a little fun with the pointy eared freak. She pulled her hand free and snaked it around his neck, pulling his face closer to hers as she whispered in his ear, "My, my could this be the legendary Batman paying little ol' me a visit," as she spoke, she wiggled her legs bent between her body and his, "I'm touched," she said right before he kicked him off, his body hit the nearby wall with a thud.

There was no way she was waiting for him to process what had just happened, she jumped to her feet as she pulled out a pill sized capsule from a pouch inside from her sleeve, "It's a a shame I have to cut this short," and with she threw it on the ground. Smoke explodes from the broken capsules, before it encircles the two figures just as Batman was reaching for her. As Batman took in a breath, he realized it wasn't smoke at all but gas. It was something that she certain would only effect him, since she knew her mask, though beautiful was more than just ornamental, there was a gas mask built in. Within seconds, Batman was choking on the gas, which gave her just enough time to finish what she had come there to do.

Hurrying to the bookshelf, she found her device had successfully cracked open the safe, the paneled popped open so that its treasure was hers for the taking. Inside there was a stack of creds, some jewelry boxes and folders, but her fingers past those things and closed a small brown package, her real prize. Just as she secured it, an arm came around her throat, and she felt herself being dragged back from the safe. Whoever this new Batman was, he was relentless, though he was choking violently, he was not about to let her just walk out of there. Still capsules wasn't the only weapon in her arsenal, but simply flexing her fingers, claws extended through her gloves. She used these to dig into his suit, past the tech and right into his skin.

It all happened so fast that the sudden pain came clearly as a surprise to him, and his gripped slacked every so slightly, enough that she could slip out of it. For a moment, just a moment, she considered turning this into a brawl, how often would she have the chance to tussle with Batman? Actually never would've been preferred, but her prideful side would love to take him down. Still the police were likely to show up any minute and she didn't want to get in that much trouble in one night. She picked up a statue, feeling the weight of it in her hand, before she threw it at the window, hearing the glass shatter and sending it everywhere. Normally she enjoyed the subtle approach to burglary, but there was no need for that anymore, her cover was blown. With a new escape route, she jumped out the window without pausing and was engulfed by the night.

"Close, way too close," she thought as she slipped back into shadows, where she was comfortable, where she was safe. Now hat she was on edge from the encounter, she was overly aware of her surroundings and made sure Batman was following her. She turned the package over in her hand, a small part of her wanted to open it, to now why some paid as much as they did for some that simple look, but the rational part, the one in control knew better. With no more delays, she went to the drop off point.

* * *

He's eyes were still full of tears from the gas as he leaned out the window to take a deep breath of city air. Terry's eyes scanned the inky glow of night was typical of Gotham, looking closely in the shadows, but she had vanished. Over the com, Terry heard exactly the wrong words, "You lost her," Bruce stated as Terry leaned out the shattered window as the words hit him with accusation.

"Who was that?" he asked as he hurried out the apartment, trying to get out of there before the cops came out, "there's got to be something on her, especially looking like that, with the mask and all."

"Raven," Bruce said shortly after a few strokes at the keys.

Terry's brow furrowed as he made his way to street level, "Raven, what?" he asked, "what does that mean?"

"She's new to the police, someone in the media got a hold of it and named her Raven," Bruce answered, "probably has something to do with the mask she wears. Wanted for a burglary, suspected for many more. She's good, there's not a lot of evidence on her at all, a few photos, but no fingerprints or DNA at any of the crime scenes."

"Wasn't there a Raven from your time? A hero?" Terry asked as he climbed into the Bat-mobile to continue his night on patrol.

There was a pause, which let Terry know that whatever happened to the first Raven wasn't a pleasant story nor did it have a happy ending, not that many stories that Bruce had were. So he let it drop, Terry found that he had to do that a lot with Bruce, his mentor didn't share very much with him, which bothered Terry every once in a while. Still there was on his mind than just one instance of under sharing. So instead of pouting Terry decided it was best to go back on to patrol, see if he could fid the mysterious woman in the beautiful bird mask. 


	2. The Old Friend

**Chapter 2: The Old Friend**

* * *

 

He was in trouble, seemed like he was always in trouble lately, but last night she stopped answering his messaged and when he tried to call her she sent it straight to voice mail. On the scale of things, he was in pretty hot water. It wasn't easy having a double life, sometimes he really wanted to talk to her about it, to share, but he couldn't. Not only had he made a promise to his mentor so that he could continue to wear the suit, but there was something else, maybe it was because he didn't want to put her at risk or that it was his burden to bear or something dramatic like that. Really, Terry didn't give it much thought, he wasn't a super deep guy. He just went with his gut and so far, so good. Well, not always so good.

Still he was running late, like always, there was an empty seat by her and he had to try. The moment he went to put his books on the desk, Dana glared up at him with an icy stare, which effectively stopped Terry in his track, "Don't even think about it, Terry," she spat before she turned her back to him. His chest fell, he wasn't surprised but he had hoped this would've gone over better.

Looking around the room, he noticed that there was just one seat left. The wavy dark blonde hair pulled up in a ponytail, with shoulders hunched over that made her small stature appear even smaller; even though she was a few rows ahead and facing away from him, he knew actually who it was. Cyla Drake. The computer whiz, the poor kid, the troubled youth, the odd one, there were a lot of labels and opinions on Cyla, but Terry knew her was one of his oldest friends. Well they were friends once upon a time, way back when he was as far away from the straight and narrow as a kid could be. A lot had changed since then, including their friendship, which was nonexistent. As he slide into the seat, she gave him a curious look from the corner of her eye, "You must be in some serious trouble if sitting next to me is suddenly your best option," Cyla muttered, her attention only lingering on him for a moment before she went back to typing away on her computer.

That hadn't been what he was expecting, he figured he'd get the silent treatment from Cyla as well. She was known to keep grudges, but for all he knew she could've become a very different person. The last time he'd check she was hacking into things best left alone and running around with a gang. Maybe she had changed, but he doubted it. Regardless, he knew the best option for him would be to just stay quiet, but Cyla didn't seem to need his commentary to keep the conversation alive, "So what'd you this time, lover boy?" she tainted him, her voice mingled with both disinterest and annoyance, "get the wrong kind of milk in her highness's latte or did you make her go to a party that wasn't sway enough? Maybe you let some raindrops fall on her precious little head, or would she melt if that happened?"

The words that had tumbled out of her mouth were not at all what Terry thought he'd be hearing at that moment as he settled in for class, "Don't act like such a dreg to her just because she not from your side of the river, she's not some spoil brat, Cyla," he growled at her. For the majority of their friendship, Terry had called Cyla by different nicknames, and now that he used her normal name it felt so weird and impersonal. It really drove home just how far they had drifted.

"Looks I like I hit a nerve," she replied carelessly, her tone suddenly bored with the conversation, "noted."

For a moment, Terry was just in shock. Sure the girl had grown up with wasn't the warmest or most friendly and she'd wouldn't win a popularity contest, but downright mean wasn't her style. She was wild, not cruel. At the most she a little cold at times, but she never just went after people.

"Alright, the lesson plan is now up on your vid screen," the holographic instructor materialized in front of the class, "as I'm sure you've noticed your regular teacher isn't present today, he will return tomorrow, but he has sent assignments to be completed by the end of this scheduled period."

Terry looked down at is screen to find, to his dismay, a quiz. As much as he wanted to continued to argue with her, given how under his skin she had managed to burrow, Terry knew his grade in the class was bad enough without giving up his attention to someone he didn't even like. So class went by without them speaking again.

The moment the bell rang Cyla hurried to her feet and brushed past him. This wasn't an unusual thing, over the years they had many classes together, and since they stopped being friends, Cyla was quick to get away from him. Something was different about that moment though, it wasn't Cyla that was different, it was Terry. Maybe it was the ordeal with the Joker and seeing how bitter time of separation had made both Bruce and Tim toward each other. Maybe Terry was just more stubborn than usual that day. Whatever it was, he scrambled to grab his things and hurry after her.

It was easy to lose Cyla once she entered a crowd, she was short in stature and had been known to be a fast walker, even people who had significantly longer than her are left in the dust when she weaves through the halls. Still Terry was able to spot her dark blonde ponytail swaying side to side as she walked, and he hurried after her, pushing past people, "Cyla!" he calls, trying to get her attention, "could you slow down for two seconds?" Regardless to the fact that she completely ignored him, Terry was able to catch up to her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

Immediately, she shook his hand off and her head whipped around to face him, an angry look in her light blue eyes, "What do you want from me, McGinnis?" she bit at him before she looked away and hugged her books closer to her chest. It was clear was his presence was not only making her angry but uncomfortable.

Her anger really caught Terry off guard, and he physically moved slightly back from her, "Why are you so pissed at me?" he question, the disbelief was clearly marked on his face as he looked done at someone he had known from so long, that was as much a stranger as an old friend.

It was now Cyla's turn to look at him with shock, "Because you went all goody goody and suddenly you were too good to talk to me," she rolled her eyes at him but refused to actually look at him, "and now what? You just feel like you can just reverse that because you feel like it? Seriously. You can be a totally twip some times."

"I didn't suddenly stop talking to you," he reminded her, there was no way he was backing down from her, "when I got out of juvi, I tried. I wanted to be your friend but you were so fucking concerned with your gang that you didn't have time for anyone who wasn't interested," he remembered how stubborn she was about the whole thing since he had been involved with Charlie, one of the biggest mistakes Terry had ever made. It was one that Cyla had tried to opportunize on it.

"You and Big Time weren't together anymore, but I didn't want you to think that you weren't part of the life anymore just because you got caught," she told him, "I wanted you to know you still had family," even though she wasn't looking at him, he saw sadness in her eyes, and he was reminded that for Cyla when she hit her darkest times the gang was her only home and support system.

He shook his head, "But I didn't want to be a part of that stupid gang and that's all you care about," he told her coldly, his emotions getting into the conversation, "I still can't believe a smart girl like you would be content to hang around all those dregs," she was walking faster now, trying to dodge together people and it was getting more difficult to follow her. As Terry struggled to walk next to her, he became increasing annoyed with her, "Slang it, Drake will you wait for a goddamn second," he growled, but she appeared to be finished speaking to him, she wouldn't even acknowledge him. When she continued to ignore him, he took the crook of her arm and spun her around, so that she had to look at him.

Before he could say anything else to her, she stopped in her tracks and got in his face, well as much as such a short person could manage. At the same time, she wrenched her arm out of his grip, "Will you just stop talking?" she snapped, bearing her teeth at him, "I don't need you judging me. I did what I did. I'm very aware that I'm far from perfect, but it's not like I had a lot of opinions, okay?"

"There are always choices, Cyla, better choices," Terry didn't back down either, in fact he got even more in her face, "it's not like you ever really asked for help, not from me anyway, and I thought was your best friend," he was too close to her; it was clear by the way her shoulders were curled in, and she was holding her books almost like a shield for her chest.

It appeared as though she was ready to bite back at him, when an arm slipped around her, causing her to flinch, "McGinnis giving you trouble, Drake?" growled the voice that the arm belonged to. They both turned to see Bruno, who Terry was also rather close to at one point and was still one of Cyla's closest friend. Bruno glared down Terry, his brown eyes flashing violently, but Terry wasn't surprised, Bruno had always been protective of Cyla. As children they joked that Bruno was Cyla's attack dog, he was at her side when she called and won't let any threat get too close to her.

"No," she stated simply, turning her attention away from Terry and brushing off the argument, "in fact, we were done talking," the way she had been sizing Terry up, he wondered if she had been considering setting her dog on him, but she must have decided against it as she turned away from him.

Bruno looked Terry over one more time before he snarled but followed Cyla's lead to walk away, "Good, I didn't really feel like talking to that dreg anyway," he said, his anger dissipating with every step away from Terry, "hey, did you hear about the party on sixth this Saturday? Do you think you could pull yourself away from the computer long enough to go, lil Robot?"

Terry wanted to call out to them, make them turn around or to get in the last word, but he didn't know what to say. So instead he turned to walk the opposite direction, he had class to get to as well. It wasn't long before Max caught him in the hallway, "Hey Terry!" she called, getting his attention so that he would stop and wait for her, "what happened in Lit class, Dana is seriously pissed at you."

"When isn't she?" Terry replied, his head hung a bit. He had this sneaking feelings that this just wasn't going to be a good day.

Max seemed to take sympathy on her friend and gave him a light pat on the back, she had never been very good at comforting people, "Don't worry about it, I'm sure it'll all blow over by tomorrow," she reassured him, "now we better get going to computer class, you don't want to be late, again."

* * *

 

Though Terry didn't see Cyla for the rest of the day, he couldn't get her out of his head. Memories of when they were kids all came flooding back; like when she first started gymnastics and she insisted on showing him her moves as they walked through the city. Once she tried to use the edge of a bridge, which over looked a highway, as a balance beam, because Terry and Bruno had egged her on. She had nearly fallen to what probably would've been her death if Bruno hadn't grabbed her arm and pulled her back. Of course that only made the high strung girl angry, because according to her, she was just fine without their help! Yeah right, she was one wobbly step away from disaster.

Another time, she had climbed up the wall of Terry's father apartment building to his window in the middle of the night. She had tapped on his window, crouched on his ledge. When his saw her the first thing he noticed was her normally lively little blue eyes were flooding over with tears. Then of course the shock of an eleven year old having the ability to scale a building washed over him until he remembered the large tree outside that had a branch that reached the apartment window below his. He remembered her nearly crumpling to ground when he opened the window. It was clear that both emotion and exhaustion had overcome as she curled her knees into her chest and sobbed. That was the first time Cyla had experienced being homeless

Through the years, Terry and Cyla, even Bruno though Terry was more reluctant to admit that, has been through a lot together. They've been through more than most adults had, from parental divorces, homelessness, parents going to jail, even themselves being threaten with jail time. What a shame it was that only Terry had decided to straighten himself up when the other two hadn't, maybe its because he was the only to actually get caught. Not that wasn't true, Cyla had done a couple weeks in juvi, but he didn't really count that.

This pattern continued even after he slipped into his costume and continued his night job. It was odd, to compartmentalize something as long as he had and suddenly it in the forefront of his mind in such a consuming way. He figured he could ask the old man about it, but then again had Bruce ever really dealt with any of the stuff he pushed aside? He still called himself Batman, so that was a hard no. Instead he just went on to follow his marching orders, but his head just wasn't in it.

"Let's call it a night, kid," Bruce decided after Terry had done some good investigation and stopped some chemicals from getting into the hands of some Jokerz. Though it wasn't unusual for the Jokerz to try to get a hold a deadly chemicals, it was generally for some kind of crude attempt at Joker Gas, that they were never sure of the recipe on. This time was different though, none of these chemicals were any close to the usual recipe, though they were very dangerous. Regardless of the solid bust, there was something more, there was clearly detective work that needed to be in there, so it seemed shocking to Terry that his mentor would be telling him to take the night off.

"Why would I do that?" Terry asked as he checked his body for injury, one of the Jokerz pulled a knife and he honestly wasn't sure if the blade had nicked the suit or not. From what he could see the suit looked around, he had gotten a little bumped around and would be sporting some pretty nice bruises tomorrow.

There was a definite pause as Bruce both gave Terry a chance to come up with the answer on his own, but the boy didn't and he wasn't surprised, "You're just a bit distracted tonight," he commented.

For moment, Terry considered just telling the old man nothing, he knew Bruce wouldn't believe him, but they weren't the touchy feely type. Still Terry decided on honesty, "It's just this girl at school," he told his mentor.

After another brief pause, "Dana?" Bruce finally asked, though he didn't show it in his voice, it seemed like the old man actually cared and was trying to engage in a conversation that wasn't about Batman, which didn't happen very often.

Terry bit his lip, were they really discussing Terry's problem with the opposite sex? It was turning into a strange night. Still he shook his head, "No, though things are, well, not sway on that front," he admitted to his mentor.

"Max?" Bruce continued to press Terry, though Terry could hear him flipping through police radio feeds for something that Batman could do.

"Not Max," Terry sighed and with the roll of his eyes decided it was time to just come clean, "her name is Cyla, we were friends when we little up until I went to juvi. She got herself mixed up with a gang from her side of the river, they call themselves the Misfits. I just talked to her for the first time in years. She just got in my head."

Before Terry was able to take a breath after talking, Bruce had already look up the Misfits in his database, "The Misfits have been around for while now but have only surfaced as a major player in organized crime in the last fifteen years. They specialize in stolen information and counterfeit tech. Though they still dabble in the classics, extortion and drugs and crimes of that nature."

"I wasn't really looking for a history lesson," Terry grumbled as now he was flipping through the police scanner himself, talking personal to Bruce definitely was something he instantly regretted, "I just, I don't know, I was looking to help my friend."

"So that's it," Bruce broke into a sly, knowing smile as he leaned back in his chair.

Terry's brow furrowed, "That's what?" he questioned.

"You want to scoop this girl up and save her, " Bruce answered, and when Terry tried to make a retort Bruce continued, "I get the impulse, you put on the suit and you just want to be a hero all the time, but you can't save everyone, especially someone who refuses to be saved. It's a lesson you have to learn or it will consume you. I thought the situation with Big Time would've taught you."

"I just can't-" Terry's stopped abruptly as his head snapped in the direction of a silhouette up against a building, "what's that? Is that Raven?" he asked quickly as he started toward it.

"Cool your heels McGinnis," Bruce grumbled, "it's just a cat. You're too jumpy to keep this up. Go home."

Terry shook his head, "I've got this, I just want to keep looking."


End file.
